Let's all eat at McDonald's!
by the-penguin-otaku
Summary: DISCONTINUED ... I have no clue where this came from. America and England decide to stop for lunch. And who knows what will happen next? Rated T because of England's potty mouth. Crackish.
1. I'm hungry

**A/N~ sup! this is my first fanfic ever, so lets see how corny it gets!  
WARNING: there shall be crack and there shall be lots of badmouthing random stuff. There might be some yaoi in the future. I don't know.  
all chapters shall be short and sweet. ' Cause that's the way I roll.  
disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, McDonald's, or any other copyrighted items that may surface as this fic goes on and on.**

" England, England, England, England, England, Eng-"  
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT? Arthur screamed. " And, God, stop poking me."  
America whined. " Are we there yet? I'm hungry..."  
England sighed. Why the hell did he agree to go with Alfred on a fucking road trip?  
" America, it's only been two hours."  
" BUT I'M HUNGRY!"  
" FINE, GODDAMMIT!" he knew that there was no way out of this. " Where do you want to go?" Arthur was almost scared to ask.  
Alfred jumped for joy- or, at least tried to, as he was restricted from his seatbelt. " Yay! I know exactly where we should go!" He grabbed the steering wheel, and swerved into the other lane.  
"What the hell?" England said. All of a sudden, they had parked in front of a red building.  
And we all know what building that was, right?  
Pizza Hut!  
No, not really.  
Arthur just stared. Of course America would take them to a fucking McDonald's.


	2. scared of clowns

**A/N~ presenting... Chapter two! This one's a bit longer.  
Oh, at any time in this fic, one character or another will become OOC. Deal with it.  
Please R and R! Otherwise America will leave and decide to go to somewhere else for lunch. And that's no fun at all.**

By the way, is it annoying how I keep changing their names from America to Alfred and such? I really want to know.

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia. I do not own McDonald's. I do not own Ronald McDonald. I don't even own a car. But I do own this fanfic though.  


"Why the hell are we at McDonald's?" Britain exclaimed.

"Because McDonald's is the awesomest restaurant in the world!" America jumped out of the car, proceeding to drag England with him.  
"There is no way in hell I'm eating here. It's junk!"  
America whined (he's a big whiner, isn't he?). "Drop dead, England, you asshole!"  
Alfred grabbed Arthur's shirt collar and started dragging him across the parking lot, as England called America things so vile that they should never be repeated. Ever.  
There were many reasons Arthur did not like McDonald's. One, the food was disgusting. Two, the food was really fattening. But there was also another reason he hated it.

He was afraid of Ronald McDonald.

But who (besides America) isn't?

I mean, he was a freaking clown. Clowns are scary. For all you know, you just invited a pedophile to perform at your child's birthday party. And his nose...don't even get me started about it. And he tempts millions of children everyday into getting blood clots and stuff in return for cheap toys and a red cardboard box. You also can't forget the commercials. One time, England was over at America's house, watching the football (A/N: the soccer version of football, that is.) when a commercial for McDonald's popped up. He swore that that clown was doing drugs or something.

Anyway, back to the main story!

Where were we? Ah, yes, England getting scrapes from being dragged across pavement. It hurt. A lot.

He was so not lovin' it.


	3. don't apply for job of cashier

**A/N- Wow. Already chapter three. I was expecting my usual writer's block to kick in by now.**

God this chapter was so hard to write, since it was told from the perspective of the poor soul who happened to be running the cash register that day. I feel sorry for her...

I have no clue if McDonald's serves 'extra large quadruple cheese and bacon burgers.' let's just hope they don't.

Lastly, there is a poll on my profile! Take it, take it please... I need to know whether or not to add Prussia into this goddamn mess...

If I owned hetalia, I wouldn't be posting this on **. If I had a MasterCard, my house would be filled to the brim with manga. If I owned McDonalds, I would have died of heart disease by now. Just saying.  
**

I loved life.  
I'm in college, have a boyfriend, got laid the other night, I even have a job!  
... Not saying it's a desirable job. But hey, it's McDonald's. I get free food and coffee, and the pay is just enough to keep me alive for four days. More or less.  
In fact, I never really could find anything bad about it (not counting the obesity-on-a-bun or the crappy bathrooms).  
That was, until today.

So this really cute blonde guy came in today. He was almost as cute as my boyfriend (when he wasn't drunk). He was also a total Brit. He had the accent and everything; topping it off by ordering a fish sandwich. Squee! I have been in love with the British ever since the Beatles were formed. I wasn't even born then!  
Just when I was going to ask for his number, his friend pushed him aside and started yelling in my face.

"I'll have ten extra large quadruple cheese and bacon burgers with an order of extra-large fries and a really large Coke and a chocolate shake and a vanilla ice cream cone and an Oreo mcflurry and two apple pies and-"

His friend slapped him. "IN THE NAME OF GOD, ALFRED, SHUT UP BEFORE YOU MAKE THE ENTIRE RESTAURANT EXPLODE!" he screamed.

I just stared. The guy had-miraculously- got his friend to stop. 'Alfred' handed me a MasterCard. I nodded, gave him their receipt, and started making all the dairy products that were mentioned in the above sentence thing. I was on the ice cream cone when my coworker, Jenn, nudged me and whispered something in my ear.

Oh god.

They just ran out of hamburger meat.

My gaze reverted to Alfred. He was staring at the kitchen in a 'where the hell is my burger' type of way.  
This sucked.

That was the first time in my life I ever thought about killing myself.


	4. bonus chapter: happy meals

**I do not own either main topic of this fanfic, and I don't know the mayor of Cincinnati. I also mean no harm to the major franchise that I'm mocking throughout this story. Well, I guess I mean a little, but I don't want to get sued.**

A/N- hello everyone! Tis I, the-penguin-otaku! Queen of mocking hamburger joints by using anime characters!

This chapter has nothing to do with the main plot (except it takes place at McDonald's).  
Why? Remember my aforementioned writers block? Well, it finally kicked in. Right after I finished chapter three. So now I'm pacing across my room trying to figure out how to get America his crap when they're all out of the damn meat. Its not even real meat! For those of you who know about it, some woman kept a McDonald's burger on her windowsill for years and it still looked edible! Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn...

So while I mumble to myself, please enjoy this short chapter about Sealand-kun.  
  
_Characters: Sealand, the cashier chick from chapter three (it's a cameo though), various friends of Sealand, France (who isn't important)_

Setting: two days before England and America pop in.

Sealand was happy. He had friends! Okay, they weren't nations or anything, but at least someone knew he existed!  
"Hey, Peter, wanna go get lunch?" said Billy, one of the weirdos that Sealand was friends with. Sealand smiled.  
"OK!"  
"Where should we go?" said Bob, Billy's brother, who in fact hated Sealand, but couldn't resist the opportunity of free food.  
"Ooh! I know," said Billybob, who was -you guessed it- the son of the Mayor of Cincinnati. What? He doesn't have to be related to those two imbeciles!  
Anyway, Billybob replied, "there's a McDonald's over there."  
Sealand smiled. Today was the day he was going to order a Big Mac for the first time! He never got one, because the last time he went to a McDonald's with America, he got him a happy meal.  
When they got inside, they just stared. A perverted blonde guy was trying to seduce some girl at the cash register. **(A/N- yes, it's France! For no good reason.)** Eventually a police officer came, took the perv away, and they could finally order. Sealand turned to Bob.  
"Get me a Big Mac, okay? I'm going to get a table!"

Twenty minutes later, because this restaurant was so slow it could no longer be called 'fast food,' Bob, Billy, and Billybob sat down at the grease-covered table Sealand picked and handed him a red box. Sealand sighed and took out his grease-covered burger and grease-covered fries, and started playing with the crappy toy that always came in said grease-covered box.  
Looks like he wasn't getting a Big Mac today.  
Stupid happy meal.  
Stupid McDonald's.

**MORAL: don't ever let your 'friend's' brother order your food. Although, in this case, I guess it wasn't as bad, because we don't want Sealand-kun dying of a heart attack. Am I right?**

Please take the poll! And R and R! And comfort Sealand for my friend Caity!  
(She loves Sealand-kun. Like me. I doubt she even knows I'm writing this.) 


	5. rock and roll McDonald's

**A/N`oh my f*cking god. In my health education class today, we were watching Supersize Me. I was trying the whole time not to burst into a Hetalia-inspired fir of randomness. On the good side, I have plenty of new ideas for this story.  
Oh, and my writer's block? Still there. I just thought I would be nice and post something. Because I love you all.  
Oh, if you've heard the song (if it can be called a song) 'rock and roll McDonald's' by Wesley Willis, you will understand what England is saying. If you haven't, it was in Supersize Me. or, google it.**

I do not own McDonald's. I do not own Hetalia. I do not own Supersize Me. I do not own the aforementioned song.  


"When the hell will my burgers/fries/shakes/pies/ice creams/miscellaneous items be done?" England complained.

No, wait, that wasn't England. It was America. England ordered a Filet-oFish.

England (and this time the real England) scoffed at his brother. Yes, because he was British, he can scoff all he wants. " Why in the name of the Queen did you want to come here anyways?"

America just stared. "Wh-wh-why I w-w-wanted to come here?" He shook with disbelief. "Why I wanted to come here? BECAUSE IT'S SO DAMN GOOD! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU HAVE AGAINST THE GOLDEN ARCHES? "

England sighed, and started rolling off the things that he hated about this place. "McDonald's makes you fat."

"No they don't! I'm as skinny as you are!"  
"They serve Big Macs...they serve Quarter Pounders..."  
"Which are good!"  
" They will put pounds on you."  
"Your ramblings sound familiar..."  
" McDonald's hamburgers are the worst, worse than Burger King."  
"NOT TRUE! And where do I remember this from...?"  
England jabbed a finger into America's chest. " A Big Mac has 26 grams of fat," he started. "A Quarter Pounder has 28 grams of fat. And who knows how many _fucking _calories are in your ' extra-large quadruple cheese and bacon burgers.'"

America gave Arthur a funny look. Where the hell did that rant come from...?

"And just so you know," England said." That was from that food documentary China and I made you watch in 2005."

2005 documentary...2005 documentary...2005...nope, didn't ring a bell. America went back to the counter.  
"Is my food done yet?"

Of course it wasn't, as we all remember that they ran out of beef two chapters ago.

**I'll go back to the cashier trying to get America his obesity-on-a-buns next chapter. If my damn writer's block stops anytime soon.  
Ciao! (Or better yet, Chow!)**


	6. where's the beef?

**A/N~ one of these days I'm going to introduce Ronald McDonald in this... oh! And Prussia! Can't forget him!  
Once again told from the perspective of cashier lady (who we shall now call 'Sam' for quick referencing)**

I don't own...anything. I own absolutely nothing. At all. How sad...  
Onward!

I turned my head and looked at Alfred from before. Right now him and British guy were arguing over how disgusting McDonald's is. I went back to Jenn.  
"How the fucking hell are we going to make all ten of the fucking burgers?" I whispered-yelled at her. **(Yes, you can whisper-yell. its possible.) **Jenn just shrugged.

" I don't know," she said. "A truck of patties are coming in an hour, but by then they'll probably leave."  
Right then Alfred was yelling something about how McDonald's was 'so damn good.' That guy has a screw loose, if you ask me.

"Wait!" Jenn exclaimed. "What about Tofu?"

I sighed. "Not going to work on this loser."

"Uhh... Giving him his money back?"

"No. I'm getting paid this week, no matter what."

" I GIVE UP! Let's just go to the Burger King across the street and get some meat from there!"

" He's not going to fall for that! Look at him."

Jenn stared. " I know, it's amazing he's so thin..."

I slapped her. "Asshole!" I told her. " Not that! "

Alfred had stopped talking and was now turned back to the counter. "Is my food done yet?" He complained.

Screw it. I grabbed the nearest sharp object available. Jenn's eyes widened.  
"You're not gonna...kill them, right?"  
I laughed. "No, Jenn. Come on, we're gonna kill a cow for this even if it kills us."

Thank god Mr. MacDonald's farm was two miles away. How ironic. McDonalds relying on farmer MacDonald.  
But the first question is... How are you supposed to murder a cow?


	7. finally! onward with da plot!

**A/N~ oh my god...I haven't updated in a long time, considering the first chapters were updated daily. At school I have like 5 projects I'm working on, and I'm also working on a Russia cosplay for a convention in my area.**

But now it's updated! Woo!

In this chapter, you can interpret what America is trying to say in any way.  
And for those who don't know, 'nom' shall be the onomatopoeia of eating.

...By now everyone should know I do not own hetalia.  


After having to wait two hours, Sam and Jenn finally got back from their cow murder spree, about the same time as a food delivery truck came to the restaurant.

"Oh, shit," was the main response coming from the two employee's mouths.

So where was I? Oh yeah, so, after another hour (what? the country ordered ten quadruple cheese and bacon burgers!) of waiting, five trays of food appeared on the counter.  
America's eyes widened like a kid. You know, a kid who is about to eat something that's gonna kill them later in life.

"ENGLAND! ENGLAND! IT'S ALL HERE! GO PICK A TABLE!"

England sighed. He thought about the road trip they were on about 3 hours ago. He couldn't even remember where they were originally going. And this was all America's fault. Like usual.

England sat in one of the plastic, uncomfortable booths. His brother uh... stumbled over to him? He was carrying five or so trays and enough food and beverages to keep half of Ethiopia's citizens fed for weeks. Anyway, America got over there, one burger thing already in his mouth, and sat down opposite from England.  
England couldn't even make out what was supposed to be his. Each of America's cheese-and-bacon-fuckers came with a set of large fries. As said, each. Most of the damn potatoes covered one entire tray.

"So-nom-England, I was-nom- thinking about-nom nom om nom- and the countries should-om nom nomnom om om nom- and like, -nom om nom- Germany. In other -nom- I"M THE HERO!'

"What the hell were you just talking about? And god, you know not to talk with your mouth full (not that you ever not do it.). "

"Well, I was explaining how- nom nom om nom om-should get together and host a big-nom nom nom- party, and like, there we could all-nom om nom-and stuff. You get what I'm saying?"

"Hell no."

"I'll tell you again. We're gonna-nom-"

"- Ah, fuck it. Just eat your blasted burger."

After all, the sooner he finished, the sooner he'd be out of here.


	8. NOOO! Mint bunneh!

**A/N~ I'm back!**

Well, I guess I already was, but still.  
These next two months are gonna be pure torture for me with all the goddamn projects...  
but I'll try to update!  
This is random, because I'm trying to make this fic slightly longer (that plus I need to vent out ideas.)  
Oh, if you are an avid lover of all of England's fairy friends, skip this chapter. You wont like it.

England sighed. That wanker **(yes! I'm actually using British slang!)** was such an asshole. Why the hell did he even like McDonalds? One of these days, he's gonna-

_"Hi there!"_ it was a squeaky voice. And, all us hetalia nerds know who said it.

CHINA!

Naw, it's the...

"Flying mint bunny! You actually came!" England was saved! At least Bunny had more common sense than America. That kid would be the one who pours gasoline on a Christmas tree. And then decides to light a cig. Or something like that.

_"I wanted to see you, but...why are you in here?"_ said the annoyingly chipmunky voice.

" This bloke over here decided to eat food."

The F.M.B. stared at one of the multiple cheese, bacon, and beef suicide patties. _"This is food?"_

"Apparently so."

"Hey, England, who're ya talkin to?" America finally said. He had missed the part where Arthur exclaimed 'Flying mint bunny' because he was off in McDonaldland.

"My friend, bunny."

America looked around. There was no green pikachu-looking thing in sight. **It does look a little like pikachu, doesn't it? I mean, swap the green for yellow and chop off the wings and- wait, why am I bothering to tell you this? Back to the story.**

"What bunny?"

"The one right here." England pointed to the creature circling around his head.

"Where?"

"Here, you bloke!"

"I see no bunny."

"Then you can go to hell."

All of this happened while F.M.B decided to try one of America's burgers. Immediately, she felt something in her/his (who knows what gender that thing is) chest.

_"Hnngh!"_ was the last of her squeaky words.

England cried. "Flying Mint Bunny! No!"  
America shrugged. "What the hell are you getting worked up about? Nothing's here."

From that day on, England vowed to one day murder the blasted clown behind all this.

Little did he know a different country would soon be doing the work for him...

and no, I'm not telling who it is.

It's also not Prussia. Nice guess, though.

**Ooh! Cliffhanger! Sorry, that was a lame-ass ending.  
**


	9. Bad England

A/N~ yeah, I know. Haven't posted in a while. Multiple reasons. Projects, homework, projects, drawing, projects, other fanfic, projects,, and watching anime. Did I mention the freaking projects?

**I am sorry, but I am going to end this fic very soon. Mainly 'cause of the things listed above. That, plus I want to work on another story for Hetalia that I have been working on (Hit them between the eyes-it's a m-rated horror story). I also can NOT do any yaoi for this, even though I really wanted to. First, I tried writing that chapter-honest- and it sucked. I need to work on my yaoi. And even though I enjoyed that pairing when I started this, it was dropped down in my OTP list as um… number 4, I think… in my list because EVERYONE likes it. My favorites- except for prucanda- aren't as well-known and so seem to me as being 'special.' No offense to US/UK shippers. Plus, you can find a hella lot of those on this site anyway. Oh, and even though I have been conflicting about it, Prussia WILL appear. Just not as majorly as I wanted in the first place. That, plus the original idea was so stupid that I don't even want to tell you about it. I am probably boring you, so I will shut up and go to the story.**

"Wait a bloody minute," England said. "We've been trapped at this bloody restaurant for at least four hours. Why the bloody hell can't I leave?"

A strange voice from above boomed at him, "Not for another 2-3 chapters, as I intend for this to be at least 10 chapters long."

England sighed. "Dammit…"

America was now onto his…uh…lets see…seventh burger, fifth thing of fries, and second pie. England had been finished sometime during my long absense from this story.

How could Arthur's day get any worse?

Well, a certain guy just walked in through the door.

And, for god's sake, shut up-its not Prussia.

"HI, kids!" the clown said. He was here for a birthday party thing that happened like, an hour ago. Thankfu- err, I mean, 'sadly,' the only possible kid in sight was Latvia. And he's not a kid. I don't know any alchoholic kids. Lets see…there was an odd group of people at the counter; a blonde man yelling at his friend that they didn't serve pasta;. Some poor albino was getting whacked by a frying pan in the corner. A British guy was banging his head against a table, moaning over the loss of a 'flying mint bunny' of some sorts. And right next to him was-

"HOLY CRAP ITS RONALD MCDONALD!" uh…yeah, by now you should now that that was America. England stopped being all emo for a second.

"Say what now?" he said. Then, his eyes set upon the presumably gay clown America was now hugging. "Bloody hell. That's it, I'm leaving."

But, much to England's chagrin. America grabbed England's arm and started dragging him away from the door. "Come on, England, we're going to McDonaldland!" (**A/N~ McDonaldland was like a magical fast food hell-err, I mean forest from back in the 60's. Yeah, it was…um…lets say its creepy. Even the theme song annoys me.) **

"What the bloody- America, what the hell are you-"

"Now, now," said the scary clown guy."Its not nice to curse."

Okay, England was pissed. "Really now? Because I want to ***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************** so hard because you're a complete *************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************."

About by word #17, everyone was staring at him and cheering. Mainly cause that's how they thought of Ronald anyways.

Of course, that didn't stop America from dragging England into the land of grease and fat and fatness.

England scares me.

**Like I said, really small part from Prussia.**

**R and R!**


	10. bonus chapter:  mistaken identity

**A/N~ was cleaning out my documents while procrastinating from a project due like, tomorrow, and came across this. Thought that I might as well post it.**

Blah blah, don't own hetalia, McD's, yadda yadda yadda...

So, the cashier lady who I will not stop mentioning even though she is pretty annoying because she is/was important to the plot was over by the McFlurry machines when a man with brown hair and glasses walked over to the counter. It was the man from before. He was going to order something.

"NO!" she began screaming while flailing her arms around miserably. "PLEASE DON'T ORDER ANYTHING ELSE! YOURE PISSING ME OFF! JUST GO AWAY!"

The personified country stared. "Uh... I think you have the wrong person. You see, I'm Canada."

**Yeah, like I said, really short.**


End file.
